NationStates Jolt Archive

Issasrach, The Ctan's Earth Territory

Her head hurt. God. Sweet Jesus, why? Why did I have to drink that third bottle? Did I not know I have work to do today? She pushed herself out towards the edge of the bed, and then got up, slowly and cautiously. Leaning on a wall, she made her way to the small refrigerator, pulled the door open, and grabbed a can of SuperJolt. Only when the drink cleared her mind somewhat.

I dreamt of Nicky again.

She shuddered. It was that dream again, of herself – as a girl six years of age, her mother dragging her to safety as the TNDF tore into the ranks of the Last Rebellion. Just next to them, an Allanean-trained instructor was running, stopping momentarily to fire just a short burst at the Taraskovyans- and then running again as the weapon had no effect on the heavily armored enemy.

It was much scarier then what I did later, as a soldier. As a soldier I could kill... not just be killed.

Her mother's face and dress were splatttered with blood, and her father was somewhere else – dead, probably. Her sister – Nicole Sheshet was running slightly behind them, catching on to her mother's skirt. Someone pushed them. They were separated in the crowd. For a few second, they could hear Nicole scream: “Mommy! Vicky! Where are you?!” - then all was lost in the din of battle.

We never found her. Mom gave up, I think. I never did.

A second can – and Victoria Sheshet, United States Ambassador to the Eternal Necrontyr Empire, was ready to start the day. An hour later, sharply dressed, she was sitting behind the desk in the Embassy – a two-room office somewhere in Issassrach. The relations between the Empire and Allanea did not warrant a bigger one – or any assistants – though the Empire did provide two Necron guards. She was so intimidated by them – despite all her knowledge they would not eat her soul – she left them standing outside the office door.

Now, she had some letters to type.



To:Siran Isarntel Insitute of International Relations
Subj: Potential lectures?

Dear Sir!

As you may know, relations between te United States and many other nations of the world are not necessarily cordial, or at least not as cordial as we in the United States feel they should be.. Partly it is through policy blunders of previous administrations, and the United States is always ready to accept the responsibility for them. However, a large part of this attitude is due to mistaken stereotypes about both Allanean culture and our foreign policy.

To clarify misigivngs about these, and in accordance to my adminsitration's Policy Code X456-CD ('Promoting Allanea's Image Abroad'), I would like to schedule, with your permission and aid, a lecture for the benefit of your students “Allanea Today: Culture, Society Policy”, for the purpose of claryfing these issues and breaking some of the false stereotypes about our nations.
Sincerely yours,
Victoria Sheshet,
United States Ambassador to the Eternal Necrontyr Empire

To: Victoria Sheshet, Isasrach
From: Siran Isarntel Institute of International Relations
Subject: Potential Lectures

In response to your inquiry, we are indeed able to make time for you to present a lecture on the foreign policies of Allanea since its re-founding. You are invited to give your talk in the Serendis Lecture Theatre in a week’s time. We trust that you are able to make your own transport arrangements to Duat. You will be received by Doctor Adam Lestrade in the Afternoon, Please Arrive At 17:00 Local Time.

Of course, this wasn’t exactly friendly or respectful, but it was about what Victoria would be used to. Though there were oodles of nations and groups despised more than Allaneans, they weren’t exactly thought of as anything more than uncultured barbarians. Dr. Lestrade had the manner of being the man who’d drawn the short straw in his dealings with her, seeming most concerned about how quickly he could get her in and out so he could return to whatever ‘important’ academic work he was doing.

The students were mostly uninterested in Victoria, possibly because they didn’t know who she was, and continued about their business, most of them doing very little it seemed except walking by in chatting groups and sitting in dormitory-cum-offices writing or idling in some way that they probably weren’t supposed to be.

The other staff had a slightly more pronounced reaction to Victoria, one or two even crossing the building’s hallways to avoid her, mostly seeming to conspicuously avoid talking to the Allanean or even acknowledging her existance.

The theatre itself was clearly quite used, its panels scuffed and its chairs slightly creaky. It was actually near to being fully refitted, and although Victoria had no real means of knowing, it was the grottiest one available. High windows – of variable opacity – covered two of its walls, and Dr. Lestrade ushered the ambassador up onto the platform at the front.

The listeners were not exactly what one would hope for either. As the lecture wasn’t required for anyone’s course, only two groups of students were actually there. On the one hand there were those who really were interested in Allaneans for whatever reason (if asked, some of this group would say they were taking ‘neo-barbarian studies’ courses). There were of course, the other group, who were considering Lt. Sheshet’s talk and post a good source of free live comedy. They were most notable in that they clustered around the middle of the seating and were talking to each other in hushed tones as she arrived.

Lieutenant Victoria Sheshet pretended not to notice the disdain of the locals. She walked towards the lecture hall, her back proudly upright, dressed in a tight blue suit clinging to her beautiful, slender body. Pinned to her chest were the medals and campaign ribbons: Fifrth Edolian War, Outer Rim Service Medal, Capsule Wars Campaign Badge, Antanjyl Campaign Ribbon. Courage Under Fire Award, First Class, Congressional Silver Cross, Second Class. These were the only evidence of her military experience – that and the proud bearing, the calm, serene expression of her face, and the blue boots that she wore.

She smiled to the students in the lecture hall, and began:

“Good day. I am Lieutenant Victoria Sheshet, formerly a Team Dagger operative, currently United States Ambassador to the Eternal Necrontyr Empire. In today's lecture, I will first give a basic introduction to the Allanean political system and structure – the dominant parties, movements, and such - and then a short explanation of the changes in Allanean foreign policy over the recent years. This will take the first thirty minutes, so try not to fall asleep - it's followed by the interesting part.”

She gave the audience her best disarming smile. Don't forget, talk after the lecture to anybody that seems to think it's interesting and looks like he has local connections...

“After that, I'll give the final segment of the lecture – an explanation on how all this gives new and exciting opportunities ot foreign investors and tourists visiting Allanea, as well as how to get invitations and tuition grants in Allanea's multiple Foreign Student encouragement program. And then there'll be forty minutes for questions.”

The first half of the lecture came through uneventfully. She spoke fluently and without mixing up any details, drew diagrams illustrating the structure of Allanea's legislature, and spelled out long names of key political figures for those who wanted to write them down. Finally, she gave a speech on why and how people should visit, invest, and study in the United States of Allanea. This all was accompanied, as is the custom in such cases, with a slide show of Allanean landmarks, the Senate hall, an eagle's eye view of Liberty-City, and other such trivia.

Eventually, the time had come to smile pleasantly again, the lights glinting from her perfect teeth and her medals, and say:

“Well that was my part. Hope you didn't fall asleep, if you did, I hope you had pleasant dreams. Does anybody happen to have questions?”

There were quite a few questions for Victoria Sheshet from her audience. They ranged from genuinely interested to frivolous.

The genuinely interested:

“Miss Sheshet, could you please explain how Allanea lost control in the Antanjyl situation?”

“Miss Sheshet, could you tell us about the cultural relevance of the Allanean Boy Scouts, and what motivated your pre-apocalypse forebears to employ them as a military unit, also, how precisely did this unit achieve success?”

“Allanea is known for its obsessive personality types, but how do different insular groups interact successfully in Allanea? While I am sure there is a degree of mutual tolerance due to the national ethos, to what degree does insularity occur between different groups?”

“Allanea is known for the prominence of firearms and self defence in its culture, but aside from this attitude, and the prominence of what are otherwise fringe groups, what other aspects of culture make Allaneans distinctive?”

“Allanean politics seem quite confusing,” it was an ironic question from a C’tani, really, “to what extent does the average Allanean have a full grasp of current issues? Does a wide-view tend to be held, or do people tend only to follow certain political debates that interest or affect them directly?”

“How do you see Allanean foreign policy developing in the future? I understand you are presently attacking the communist state of Yazmarea. How has your prosecution of that war at the political level advanced from the doctrines used in the occupation of Antanjyl? Once this war moves into a terminal phase, how will cultural change be effected?”

We all know,” said one student, wearing a red-star lapel pin, “that Allanea attacks communist countries primarily to gain resources and to effect the extension of counter-revolutionary wage-slavery. As such, why do you bother with the pretence?”

“I understand,” another said, “that Allanean culture fetes narcotics smuggling. While there is a strong case to be made for the legalisation of recreational drugs, would you not agree that the average drug-monger in restricted states does not necessarily intend to sell his wares to an adult consumer base fully aware of the implications of the practice, and therefore much of this drug smuggling is wrong?”

“Very well,” smiled Victoria. “This is quite enough for now.. after I answer those questions, I will happily listen to more, as you seem to be quite interested... but I am just one innocent little lady and there's lots of you, so wait a second...”

Suddenly, she solemn and serious.

“I will answer your questions in the order they were asked. First of all, I would wish to talk about the Antanjyl situation. As you know, the United States had first easily resolved the military problem, inflicting thirty Antanjylian casualties to one suffered, and achieving the surrender of forty-four million Antanjylian soldiers, who were placed immediately in re-education facilities. As to the quality of the facilties, it is sufficient to say that the majority of those troops have later applied for citizenship in the United States and received it. However, while the United States authorities have thus achieved the transition of 43 million people into life as free citizens, we have failed to assert effective Allanean control over Antanjyl internal policy or any kind of transition into an ownership/Bill of Rights society. This was both due to an inefficent, idealist policy on behalf of the Klotchkovsky Adminstrtion, who believed it was possible and desirable to demand an immediate transition into a state diametrically opposed to that experienced by the Antanjylian situation, and also due to said Administration's later attempt to play the different groups against each other and thus cripple them, which failed on immense proportions. I wouls also like to add that President Klotchkovsky is currently on trial in Allanea for his actions during the occupation.” (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=473317)

“In regards to the different cultural groups, you must understand that Allanea's culture is far more tolerant then those of most nations. For example, some nations dislike furries or trekkies, ascribing to them insanity, sexual deviancy, and so ob, and so forth. In Allanea, anti-hobbyism is as repugnant as racism. Of course, communication between different groups is complicated by the fact some of them choose to be insulated, such as the Branch Davidian, Amish, and similar communities. But in general, I think we have coped fine, although Allanean English has underwent an adaptation – and lots of words that are generally only used by so-called geeks in other societies are commonly used in Allanea, as are variant spellings and leet. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10611991&postcount=77).”

“The Boy Scout Association of Allanea – a misnomer, really, since there are girls, as well – was originally founded to impart Allanean values and defensive skills to young children whose parents consented to send them there. The education takes place in off-school hours and summer holidays, usually up through the end of high-school, so even people 16-18 years old, legally adult, participate as Scouts. During the Fourth Edolian War, as you mentioned, there was extensive use of Boy Scouts as ground infantry, motivated by the events of Heston-City, where a joint force of Yurkan, Felinian and Vaadi forces was driven back by Allanean Boy Scouts who spontaneously organised themselves against the enemy. Later on, large amounts of Boy Scouts were used to repel Barentsburgian invaders through the Prophet Territory, and to repel the join UNAPS forces in Axackal, despite heavy casualties on both sides.”

“Apart from the great tolerance of our culture, the economic advancements and the individual liberty – each of those being something few nations achieve and I believe a very commendable advantage in and of itself - Allanea is a nation where the arts, and especially literature and the theater, are given a much greater respect then in most nations. As such Allaneans both produce a high volume of literature, as seen in our flourishing publishing industry, and invest a large amount of their time in reading the classics - for example, your own Ganeesat is very popular."

“You must understand that in many ways, Allaneans' approach to politics is the same as Rejistanians' approach to soccer, except it's a type of soccer one participates in in person, by writing to one's representative. The average Allanean usually keeps himself informed both by being subscribed to the services of some special interest organisation that mails or otherwise informs him on key Congressional bills on issues dear to his heart, and by following the actions of the Congressman representing his district through the press and the variety of Congressional information services – all government documents that are not classified due to national security are in public access under the Open Records Act. Also, Allanea has long fostered a culture were keeping yourself informed in politics is fashionable – even since the Javivalentiran Civil War, people understood on a visceral level that the horrors of a Javivalentiran police state could repeat themselves if they didn't watch carefully. Slowly, surely vigilance became entertainment and here we all are.”

“My administration believes that Allanea must correct it's mistakes and become a responsible member of the world community, in part by keeping to its obligations under the MFTA and the Mangalan Accords, and in part by seeking to achieve better relations with the variety of the freedom-loving First World states, while continuing action to eradicate totalitarian regimes and slavery. As for Yazmarea, we plan, after eliminating the current regime, it's functionnaires and control structure, to divide the country into control zones where a variety of moderate, incrementalist strategies for transition from a communist society to an ownership society will be implemented by the different members of the Coaltion. Similar strategies are also going to be implement in Kraven, and anywhere else where Allanean soldiers may find themselves fighitng for life, liberty, and property.”

She grinned at the lapel pin wearer. “I undestand you slept through the economics lectures. I can't blame you really – I find them boring, too. Further I note that Allanea possesses such a vast abundance of land and natural resources conquering nations for their coal or oil makes little sense. At any rate, I would argue that whatever the purported evils of wage slavery, it hardly compares with the literal slavery and oppression practiced by Yazmareans themselves.”

“As for the smuggling, I would point out that generally the people buying the drugs from United States suppliers are adult – that is, aged at the human equivalent of sixteen or more. We can hardly be felt responsible that these people later use these drugs – or other items, as the case may be, as very often we may find weapons, erotic literature, and computer games on the verboten category in many nations – for their own, nefarious ends.”

“Thank you for your curiosity, ladies and gentlemen. Any further questions?”

Edited to add an answer which I had previously missed.

The insulting questions followed:

“Ms Sheshet, could you tell us something of your war record or military career?”

“Miss Sheshet, How do you feel about the Tephet-Veresta dictionary’s definition of Allanean as ‘Adjective; stupid, buffoon-like, inept or incompetent. A term of denigration used most often of foreigners?’”

“Do you think Allanea will ever be conquered again? It does seem to have a knack of annoying people and being unpopular?”

“Miss Sheshet, would you care to comment on the famous description of Menelmacar’s decision to host the Allanean Government in Exile as ‘A shameful stain upon the history of the world which will take centuries to fully live down?’”

“Miss Sheshet, how do you feel about the laws in Allanea regarding incompetence, and don’t you think that such incompetence is more institutional than the fault of any one individual in any given case?”

“I think we’re all aware of the ‘dolphin’ incident” there was some laughter, “but what other barbaric or unusual practices does Allanea use as punishment?”

“The question has been asked, why does Allanea not have a more original flag? Surely it invites confusion?”

“What’s the current President’s name?”

Sheshet did not flinch when facing a hail of Antanjylian bullets. She did not flinch fighting in the blood-stained corridors of Edolian battleships. She did not flinch when suppressing Ambivalentira terrorists in the Outer Rim. She would not flinch now.

“As to that dictionary definition, I may only postulate that the authors never really met an Allanean, or they would not use these words to describe them. Then again, there are faraway villages where they still teach children that Necrons eat souls. This is possibly the same kind of information.”

“I do not think that the United States today is quite in the same situation that we were at the time. Not only do we now possess many powerful and technologically advanced allies, not only have we advanced far economically and technologically, but I also think that there are few nations now infected with the same kind of silly bigotry towards us that caused that war.”

“Frankly, I think that there are other things on the consciousness of the Elentari's administration that are worse then hosting President Kazansky's cabinet – an act, may I add, of such integrity and values, that many world leaders would benefit if they imitated the Lady Sirithil more often.”

“No, I do not think the United States government is institutionally incompetent. We have, in the last two decades, expanded trade connections all over the world, signed peace treaties with old enemies, and beaten, in war, a nation whose military outnumbered ours nine to one in the field. That doesn't look incomptetent to me.”

“As you know, the dolphinisation punishment has only been applied once in Allanea, to a person guilty of failing to prevent the One Day War and the resulting occupation, thereby causing the death of 200 million Allaneans by the hands, mostly, of FSP occupation forces. In Allanea, we believe that when a person is guilty of causing the death or oppression of such huge numbers of people, normal punishment practices do not apply. The logical thing to do is to ask the jury to come up with a new punishment. They usually do.”

“We believe that the flag of the United States of Allanea is a proper symbol of our legacy – a legacy we inherited from the Old Common Era, and is not solely Allanean. It belongs to the whole world – and it is the duty of the Allaneans to preserve it as we preserve the image on our flag.”

“The president is Mr. Robert Atchinson... and now...”

Victoria's face was serene.

“You have asked about my career. Let me tell you about it.”

“I was not born an Allanean. I was born a Khristian. My family were part of the Last Khristian Revolt, on Mars – a desperate attempt to regain the liberty of our people. They were helped – with funding and instruction – by some Allanean volunteers. It did not help, and combined enemy forces scattered the rebels. Most of my family were exterminated, and I lost contact with my sister – Nicole Sheshet, my twin sister – forever.”

“We ended up in Allanea, in refugee camps. The Allanean government took good care of us... but some of us wanted more then that. We wanted to become soldiers. We wanted revenge. “

“Allaneans... native Allaneans do not dorevenge. They understand reacting to things as they happen to you. But when they saw us – young, determined, hungry, full of hatred -they saw something that was very evil, and could be harnessed to great good. And they created Team Dagger. They collected young men and women – boys and girls at sixteen – and trained them so hard that 9,000 of th 10,000 recruits were weeded out by the end. At the last month of the training, they sent us to Edolia, to take over the famed Doujin battleships. They told us that the survivors would be inducted into Team Dagger.”

“It was there – fighting the communist troops in the bellies of these ships – that I earned my Courage Under Fire Award and the Fifth Edolian War medal. I became Sergeant Sheshet, and I was sent to the Outer Rim – the extrasolar Allanean colonies – to fight Ambivalentira terrorists. By the time that ended, I had killed one hundred and fifty people, counting from the start of my career. There, I earned the Outer Rim Service Medal.”

“I became Sergeant Major in the Capsule Colony Wars. But I did not know that I would be sent to do my hardest work yet, in Antanjyl. I have fought there. I have seen an army that outnumbered us four hundred forty to one rise against us, and I killed them by the dozen. I received there my Congressional Silver Cross, and became Lieutenant Sheshet. Throughout my career, I have killed approximately two hundred and twenty people, fifty-eight of them in my last assignment. Of those, I killed thirty-six people without the use of a ranged weapon.”

She smiled at the students. “Would anybody have any further questions?”

One by one, as if under the malign influence of some mesmerist, the audience drifted away as Victoria spoke, until at last, only one person remained. He was a short dark haired fellow, with scruffy hair, the one wearing the communist lapel pin. He put his hand up, “I have a question,” he said at last, in a stereotypical American accent, “What’s in your left pocket?” he asked.

Along with whatever else was normally inside her pocket, there were two new items. The first was a small, neat looking business card with a watermark of a silver circle with a stylised dagger in it. It had a single line of neat typescript on it:

Box E2942, Tephet Starport, Seventh Terminal.

He rose slowly, and made a beeline with surprising speed for one of the doorways, disappearing out into a suddenly crowded corridor

The second was a key, rather archaic looking, for a three-tumbler lock. It was made of crude iron that showed traces of rust on the surface…

For a few seconds, Victoria Sheshet looked at the bisomess card. Then she got off the podium and went on with her business. She left a couple of prospectus copies on the desk – Visit beautiful Allanea! , they screamed – exchanged a few words with the dean of the university, dropped a few copies of The Tourist's Guide to the United States of Allanea on the Department Head's desk, and went out of the building.

Her training told her examining this 'Box E2942' was a bad idea. There could be a bomb in it, a poison of some kind, or maybe it was somebody's attempt to frame her for some nefarious purpose – some domestic competitor or foreign enemy could have tried that. But her training also told her something more important than that. When in doubt, Victoria, always go with your gut. Instruments fail. The brain fails. The gut doesn't.

And somehow, Lieutenant Victoria Sheshet knew – this one was going to be all right. Nothing was going to go wrong. Nothing at all.

The Terminal was a vast pseudo-industrial space where great columns of containers reached from the floor to the ceiling of a kilometre high cavern. The star port was the dropping off point for the effects and products that people had nowhere else to store, and thousands of containers rested, in a manner that invited thieving, across hundreds of floors. Fortunately, the society of the C’tan was too… if not ordered, then, mutually respectful, for such a thing to become a problem. The locker that Victoria was directed to however, was indeed locked.

It opened at her touch, rather than having any hole for the key to go into, inside, on a shelf, rested a box about twenty centimetres in length, fifteen in width, and a mere five in height. It was made of a dark wood, with brass trim at the edges, and carved with a symbol similar to the antique, royalist no less, French fleur-de-lys, but with the central ‘petal’ taking a more bladelike form.

The key fitted quite snugly into a lock on the side of this box, and inside it were neatly folded papers, maps, and a book bound with an ornate living metal cover that seemed to swim with colours when touched, The pages seemed to be composed of the same material, swimming with dark greens and blues, but otherwise blank.

As for the maps, they showed many things and yet nothing. Victoria might recognise them as star-maps, representations of a three-dimensional space, with three planes, each page was marked with an icon at the corner, indicating they fitted together as three sides of a cube. But there was no text to indicate that they showed any particular region, nor how to get to the area of deep space marked on the maps by a ring of gold and a small dash of high-necrontyr script.

Victoria stood there, her fingers moving in calculated, measured fashion, assembling the paper construct, but her mind was elsewhere. She did not know why, but she was again returned to her past. It was Antanjyl, now, and she was cold – very cold. She was lying on the very snow, with nothing but her uniform to warm her, looking in her riflescope at the advancing waves of the Antanjily. Somewhere, in her mind, the instructor's voice spoke. These targets are no different morally from the kind of subhuman vermin that you will encounter in the varied missions. Except these targets don't want to harm you and cannot harm you either, and the kind of fascist scum you'll probably be fighting have the means and motive to destroy all life, all liberty, all property in the multiverse, and you're the only thing between them and everybody ele. Is that clear, Daggers?. She fired and grinned as she saw another man's face blow up like a watermelon.

And then there was another voice. You are doing My Will, Child. It is good. But I want you to do more, Victoria. Much more. I want you to dedicate all your life to My Will. Go after these people. Purge them from the face of Erisa, and I will be pleased with My Servant.

The vision ended.. She was sitting on something – some steel box or something like it – and holding te complete cube in her hands, careful not to crush the paper construct. After studying it for a few minutes, she understood she needed help.

“Excuse me... is this Lumic Translation Services? I have something I need your help with. Ah? It's Victoria Shshet speaking. The Ambassador of the United States of Allanea to the Eternal Empire.” - she pretended not to hear the laughter on the other end of the line.

“Yes, I can send you the image right away.”

After a few moments, she got a reply, “It basically reads ‘Location of,’ then a colon, ‘INS Kerira and NSS Bored to Tears,’ Kerira, in English, is Sea-Lord, if you’re feeling pedantic. The first one should be a military ship of some sort.” The connection terminated, apparently they didn’t feel it worthwhile pestering Victoria for a charge.

Another brief search of non-classified information would reveal that the Kerira was what was termed a ‘Jackal’ class Destroyer, a classification that barely did the vast ship justice. Its charge, the ‘Bored to Tears’ – a name the civilian vessel had adopted after several months of its current assignment – was a gigalifter currently tasked with the unenviable job of serving as a refugee camp from the Volarian incident, where those ‘undesirables’ mostly Osages, picked up from Mars were being held until they nominated somewhere they wanted to go that was willing to take them. Its manifest, if she looked, also showed several hundred Kristians of her own ‘ethnic origin.’

Going there, however, was rather easier. The greatest achievement of the Necrontyr, in the minds of most of them, was their transport systems. One merely needed to go to one of the space-port’s numerous portals, and ask to be sent there. Some such portals were constantly active going to single locations, such as Menelmacar-proper, Garm, or Mars, but others were able to connect the vast network that linked every necrontyr outpost.

Of course, not all such portals would accept a connection, and the Kirira, being a military craft, would not, however, the Bored to Tears…

Hello. You have reached the office phone of the United States Embassy to the Eternal Necrontyr Empire. The Embassy staff are not available at the moment and will return your call as soon as possible. Please leave your message after the beep and the staff of the United States Embassy will call you back. Thank you for contacting the Allanean embassy.

Those in the know would laugh at this message, as they knew the 'staff' of the embassy consisted of a single person – Victoria herself. The likelihood of anybody actually calling the Allanean Embassy was of course negligibly low, Victoria told herself with a certain bitterness as she was making her way through the starport facilities, looking for the gate she needed. She did not know why she was doing this – this could be a trap, and she felt strangely comforted by the weight of he bolt pistol she was wearing under the seemingly-tight clothing. But more then that, it seemed she knew, somehow, that nothing could possibly go wrong – or could it?

Do not be afraid, Child. You do My Will, and I am with you. Go now, and see - I reward those who do My Will, and who purge My enemies with steel and fire. Go, and collect My Reward.

She was going crazy, she thought. First the visions, and now this voice in her head… but she walked confidently towards the portal. She even had a few ideas on what she would do once she arrived there – probably announce refugee status for any who wanted it, as was in her power as Ambassador. But she had not the slightest clue why this strange Voice was taking her there. She could only have faith in it.

She did. She stepped through the portal, after all.

The ‘refugee camp’ bore little resemblance to those that Victoria had grown up in. The portal room was a circular chamber that consisted of various machines built into walls, between doorways that were perfect in their monolithic squareness. Twelve such corridors radiated out, and a passing local directed her towards the one labelled as number seven. This was curious because he did so without being asked to, but rather looked at her and simply said ‘your lot are down that way,’ with a curt gesture.

The corridors lead out into what could only be described as villages or even towns. Wide areas of deck plate were occasionally broken up by greenery. The sky, far above dozens of decks, as apparently in the middle of the day, a highly sophisticated system presenting a view of a summer sky broken up by a few fluffy white clouds. There were various coffee shops and other open-air places where the ‘refugees’ congregated, and orderly, indeed, slightly varying, residential units. The goods needed or wanted by the population were obviously dispensed by the ship, free of charge, of course. It was something practically designed to annoy an Allanean. It was a communist idyll.

The necrons obviously hadn’t got one thing about the idea of keeping undesirables in such camps right. Those who were inclined to simply take handouts didn’t much want to leave if you made it too ‘nice.’

Victoria paced through the camp with a glimmer of strange pride in her – she wasn't like any of those people, she thought. She would not stay here like them were she offered so, sustaining herself forever on the mercy of her – captors? Benefactors? She would leave once she could find a place that would fit her. Maybe some of those people would, just as well.

The Allanean ambassador walked through the 'streets' of the refugee towns, her back straight, smiling benignly – yet with a tinge of contempt – on those who had once been her countrymen, and with every step, she felt more and more alien to them – less like a Khristian-Allanean, more like an Allanean-Khristian. The victrix of the Antanjyl battles felt slightly shocked by this experience – though she did not know yet what lesson the Power that guided her here wished to impart to her.

She merely walked towards anything looking like a public spot, finding whoever looked like the village elder or a mayor. "I have an announcement to make," – she said. "I understand the people here are waiting for a country to be found that'll take them. Well, I think Allanea will."

Suddenly, the thought arrived to her that she was among Khristians, degenerated though they seemed to her – and they may know something about the answers to some more personal questions she had. Perhaps it was worth the effort to ask.

There weren’t mayors so much. The necron ship managed basically everything except the lives of its inhabitants, which it found immensely boring, and wanted no real part of. The refugee camp seemed to be remarkably unaffected by the offer of Allanean citizenship. It was clear that many were holding out with futility for the C’tan government to let them immigrate, and as such, had little desire to go elsewhere. That said, there was one member of the ‘Kristian’ group around who might have seemed remarkably familiar to Victoria.

Whenever she was near the box she had found in the star-port became heavier. And if one asked the name of that particular woman of a passer by, one would be told: Nicole.

The Desert Eagle Mark XIX coughed for one last time as it ran itself dry. Five dead bodies were lying on the lip of the trench, their blood dripping inside – and more Antanjylis were coming in, and there was no time to reload. The slender woman rushed upwards to meet them, knife in hand.

Years later, Victoria would reflect on how painfully easy it was to deprive those young men of life. They had guns, and there were three of them, and they held a ground advantage by being above her on the slope – and then the knife moved – faster then the young boy's hand moved on the trigger – and it's very tip slashed his carotid artery. He fell, blood gushing like from a fountain. The other two blinked in horror isntead of firing, and she had time to throw the knife. It was still shuddering in it's target's eye as she already was in the air. Her shoes hit the last man's face at the same time. It all ended in three seconds or less.

Victoria shrugged in horror as she remembered that – not because she recoiled in any way from the act of killing – she reveled in it, if anything. But to this day, she has never gotten over the fact the after the war – after she and her comrades went through hell for them – the Antanjylians, in their oppressive majority have rejected liberty. Forty million underwent Allanean education and became Freemen. The others... you could say the Allaneans failed. Victoria failed.

And now, she was failing again. The Khristians whom she loved so much – her own kinfolk – those whom she dreamed she could free or avenge – have reduced themselves to this – beings addicted to the Necrontyr handouts, unworthy of the name Khristian – or indeed sapient.

And then she saw her.

Originally they were identical twins, but Nicole didn't spend years in training camps. She was slightly overweight – not obese, but plump, you would say – and she didn't immediately recognize Victoria. Nicole was born after Victoria – even with twins, someone must be born first – and so Victoria was the elder sisters in the family, whether she liked it or not.

“Hello Little Sis.” - Victoria was smiling. God – whoever You are – I know You wanted me to find her. Please don't let her be like them...

There was a quarter of a second of silence, then Nicky jumped at her across the six feet that separated them. She laughed as Victoria literally caught her and kept her off her ground for a few seconds. “Woah. You're strong now, Big Sister. You've really grown up.”

She wasn't like the other ones. The Ambassador could see it in her eyes already.

And then something truly amazing happened. Something the Khristian refugees, if they knew what they were seeing, could tell their children about.

They saw a Dagger cry.

“Thank God I found you, Nicky. Truly, thank you God... whatever God it is...